


"Passion"

by wafflewoffle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Based on my webcomic!, How Do I Tag, M/M, Magic, but you can read this as a standalone, flashbacks and stuff?, i dont know what im doing, that kinda stuff, the name of my webcomic is "not what i expected", wizards and familiars, wrote this for an assignment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflewoffle/pseuds/wafflewoffle
Summary: In which Lowen tries to get his assignment done on time (he doesn't) and he thanks of what has happened so far.





	"Passion"

“Passion”

A gentle breeze rustles the curtains through the open windows of class S2, and soft skritching noises and occasional rustling of paper fills the silence of the auditorium.

Snore.

Lowen looks up from his sketchbook and sighs. The sketch wasn’t going anywhere at all.  
It was easier to concentrate here than in the house, where the hammering and clattering of renovations from the recent magic-gone-wrong incident right behind his house-dorm drilled into his brain ceaselessly. But again, it was somehow impossible to draw anything that looked nice.

This was most definitely an artblock, and it was perfectly timed at that.

No point in trying to pin the blame on the construction, or the broken pipes, or the student that caused the accident in the first place.

SNORE.

Submissions were in two days. Panic has long since passed into the apathetic acceptance of the inevitable failing grade he was going to get come Tuesday. Everything was metaphorically burning to the ground and Lowen was sitting in the middle of that fire, slowly sipping on a cup of tea, while flaming chunks of the same metaphoric house collapses around him. AND, that’s not all, the paper was still filled with one or two half-hearted and incomplete sketches that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what “passion” meant to him.  
How was he supposed to make a completed artpiece on “passion” at this rate?!

THUNK.

Marcius, his partner, neighbour, and other unfortunate victim of the renovations, removes his head from the table, rubbing his forehead while sucking in air between his teeth.  
Lowen winces, that sounded painful. Marcius props his head back onto his hand and readjusts his elbow, closing his eyes again.

Come to think of it, Marcius is extremely passionate in everything he does. A little hot-headed and maybe more than a little stupid in how he rushes headlong into dangerous situations with guns blazing and without thinking no less than 70% of the time, but extremely passionate.

It was his passion that managed to save both the child and their team in the last mission after all.

 

The previous mission was an undercover attempt by the spec unit to gather evidence of a syndicate’s crimes. It was one that had required small teams of wizard-familiar pairs to gather incriminating evidence on them.

Members of the syndicate kidnapped children between the ages of nine to fourteen, where signs of abilities typically start to appear, and attempted to force replicate or transfer the ability of one person to another. Blood was transfused, organs were transplanted, “test subjects” were cut open and stitched together again and again in a morbid cycle of slaughter and experimentation.

Their reason for using these less than ethical methods? To make society “equal” between ability and non-ability users, to create an utopia where all humans had abilities. A narrow-minded, greedy and selfish approach to a situation that made no sense, considering the fact that Amoras, or ability users, were hunted down and killed just for their existence not more than five years ago, and that only 20% of the world’s population were Amoras.

 

The team Lowen and Marcius had been assigned to was tasked to save as many children from the factory as possible, to psych out the syndicate, attempting to cause enough discord from within the syndicate in hopes that it would mess them up, and make it such that the police could capture them.

The plan flew (no, hurtled) south. They did not expect one of the very children that they were trying to save to rat them out, nor did they expect the syndicate to have had predicted their movements so quickly.

Four of the six members in the team were captured within the first fifty minutes, both Lowen and Marcius included, and they were thrown into a cage together with the rejected and dying “test subjects” for the collection and recycling of blood and organs.

Though Lowen had also been drugged and caged in the disposal room along with Marcius, he wasn’t able to do anything when one of the syndicate members started “harvesting” body parts out of the still living girl in front of their very eyes.

Marcius had burned himself out of the restraints while still under the effect of the drug, risking his life against not only an armed individual, but of destroying himself from overuse of his ability, and charged towards the man, using surprise to his advantage to cast the quick but draining spell, “Arbaous”.

 

Lowen begins to sketch unconsciously.

 

He recalls the exact expression of Marcius as he flung himself forwards, clapping to activate the spell that destroyed the empty space in front of him. The man had been flung and smashed into the wall so quickly that neither him nor Lowen had a chance to react.  
Though he had been hazy and barely conscious through his drugged state then, Lowen remembers the scene in full clarity, as if everything had been captured in slow motion.

“Wait, are you drawing me? Dude, lemme see!”  
Lowen blinks. On the paper was a detailed rendition of Marcius flinging himself out of his charred and crumbling restraints, flames trailing behind him, eyes lit with a fiery rage and passion in that rivalled the intensity of the flames themselves.

 

He slams the sketchbook shut and shoves it up and under his hoodie, hiding it from Marcius and doing a weird dance on the class auditorium tables in the process of dodging and ducking away from Marcius’s grabby hands.

No way he was going to show this to Marcius.  
He swears to take the sketchbook to his grave if he has to.

**Author's Note:**

> This was for an assignment but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!  
> the webcomic can be found here: http://www.smackjeeves.com/comicprofile.php?id=170070
> 
> Thank you for reading!! :D


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